


Eraser

by mosaicu_baby



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Drabble, Established Relationship, John Porn Jones, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosaicu_baby/pseuds/mosaicu_baby
Summary: Who's Mr Jones?
Relationships: John Paul Jones/Jimmy Page
Comments: 20
Kudos: 12





	Eraser

**Author's Note:**

> Zooma making timeline, inspired by The Thunderthief. If you guessed by which song kudos to you :3
> 
> ADP! Finally I got it translated to Russian https://ficbook.net/readfic/9456268

Jones has no idea what's it doing here, at his home. Old Jimmy's necklace. Dog-collar. Or bad parody to choker. He always felt like that, but kept it to himself.

He takes necklace, darkened from being too old, it's cold, unpleasant to touch. Jones carries it on stretched hand, like a snake that can bite him, wraps it into plastic bag. No way. His hand won't twitch, throwing it away. It has to be thrown.

He discards the bag, washes his hands. They smell flower soap. He examines them, but there's nothing on his palms, no traces. Unlike in his soul that's aching.

Jones sits at the table, stands up, sits again. He reaches for the shelves, where Mo keeps things she doesn't need often. Between carefully stored boxes with spices he finds a bottle, pours a little bit of cognac on the bottom of the glass. Good that's no one's home. They will freak out seeing him drinking from the morning. Jones feels shame and relief, he doesn't want to share his disgraceful secret, doesn't want it to poison his family life, sink into this house, settle down here.

He drinks, grimaces from strong taste of alcohol, and reminisces. They were so young. Green, hotheaded, reckless. They bathed in hysterical admiration and Jones was madly in love. With Jimmy. He was never the best guitarist, these loud titles are rubbish, but he burnt and gave everything for his passion. And Jones got hooked.

They could have nothing, it was stupid even to think about it, but no one could forbid him dreaming. Nights were full of adrenaline and anxious rambling images from his liquored head, Jimmy's wet fingers, salty lips, him pulling that goddamn choker... And days came with Jimmy, smelling booze and carrying traces of glossy lipstick. It began suddenly and stupidly and ended suddenly as well. It was painful to watch how Jimmy slowly killed himself and his own creation, but Jones kept his mouth shut because he had no rights. Then he regretted. Then waited that Jimmy would come to him, they even recorded few songs together, and Jones waited, didn't want to push and made a mistake.

He wasn't hurt, he was disgusted when they went on tour without him. He felt bitter rancor, when they took the name of his best song and christened their album, which turned out to be crap by the way. He couldn't understand what the fuck they were doing. Jimmy nedded Robert only. Robert this, Robert that, Jimmy chased the ghosts, pleasing him, satisfying all his childish whims, while Jones was thrown out of the boat again.

He let it go. He drowned in family problems, surfacing time to time here and there, on somebody's else records, but it turned out that the anger didn't vanish. He just needed the right trigger. 

He squeezes fists and finishes his drink. Washes the cup, rinses his mouth to erase the smell of spirit. He hesitates for a moment. Emotions whisper that he shall stretch his hand, find the necklace between potato peels and hide it somewhere far away, where no one can detect his precious, maybe reach for it from time to time, caress his little secret. His brain screams fuck you.

Who are you really, Mr Jones?

He lived half a century in the shade, sleeping upside down, flying like a shadow in the night, like a bat. He wants to come to the light and he needs no fucking ghosts to do so.


End file.
